“No, not really.” I try to sound bright and in control, but it comes off as slightly insane instead.
“That your boyfriend up there?” he asks.
“Not anymore,” I say, grabbing him by the arms and moving in closer.
Mark takes the hint and smiles. His hands are on my waist when a loud voice comes over the speaker. It’s Mick. I grind my teeth in annoyance.
“Come on, bodies on the dance floor, show us what you got! Touch the ceiling, touch the sky, we’re gonna make you jump tonight!”
Everyone around us starts hopping up and down like a bunch of crack-addicted kangaroos. There’s no way that Mark can hold onto me, and I either have to let the crowd take me with them or risk being battered about the head and shoulders. Boing! Boing! Boing! I jump to keep my skirt from going up without me.
Mick’s voice comes over the loudspeaker again. “And now, let’s do this, swingers! Your partner’s boring! Find another one, on your left! Saaa-wing it!”
The guy to my right suddenly grabs me and swings me around in a big circle. I scream along with about fifty other girls as we’re whirled around the dance floor first by one guy, then another, and then another. I lose Mark in the madness.
I have a brief reprieve while my next partner scrambles kind of off-kilter, trying to grab me, and I use the two seconds of freedom to look up at the DJ booth. Mick is up there staring down at me.
“Asshole!” I scream.
But he can’t hear me. The music is way too loud and the crowd way too rowdy.
I have to get out of here before I kick someone in the junk. I dodge my upcoming dance partner and elbow people out of my way as I struggle to the edge of the dance floor.
Strong arms grab me and I start kicking, until I realize who it is.
“Oh, shit, Mark! I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” he grunts out, setting me down on the ground just off the side of the dance floor. “Just my nuts. Don’t worry about it.” He’s bent over halfway, his hands resting high up on his thighs.
I pat his back, feeling super guilty. He was my rescuer and I nutted him. Damn. Tonight is just not my night. I glance up at the booth and Mick is no longer there. He’s coming.
“Listen, Mark, I have to go. It was nice seeing you again.”
He waves me off without looking up.
I run toward the front door, making it into the warm summer air with a sheen of sweat covering every inch of my body. I’m almost to my father’s car when I hear someone shouting my name.
“Quin! Quinlan! Wait!”
I scramble for my keys. “Fuck you, Mick!” I yell without even looking.
His footsteps slapping on the concrete make me drop my keys on the ground. It’s like one of those horror movies where the girl can’t get the keys in the lock in time and the pressure builds and builds.
“Dammit!” I scream as he pulls up next to me, breathing like he’s just run a mile.
“Where are you going?” he asks, putting his hand on my arm.
“Don’t touch me!” I yell, jerking away.
“What’s wrong?” He sounds clueless, and all that does is make me angrier.
“Nothing! Nothing at all. And now if you don’t mind, I need to go.” I finally get the stupid key in the lock of my father’s ancient Buick, but Mick’s hand on mine stops me from going any further with my escape.
“I don’t understand what’s going on here. Did I do something wrong?”
Tears burn my eyes. I finally look at him, so angry I want to slap him across the face. “Wrong? Only if you consider cheating or lying wrong.”
He holds his hands up and backs away a step. “Whoa, what?”
“You heard me.” My words lack the steel they had earlier. His reaction is not what I was expecting. Denial? Yes. Anger? Yes. But this … this … confused act? No.
“Let’s start from the beginning,” he says. “What did I lie about?”
“You can lie by not saying anything.”
“About …?”
“About your girlfriends. Girls you are with when you’re sleeping with me. I don’t do that whole threesome thing.”
“Threesome thing? Wait … I never asked you or even hinted around about you and me inviting a third party along. What’s up with that?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
“That girl. DJ whatever. DJ Fluffanutter.”
“DJ Foxx?”